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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920285">dark moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gale_Breeze/pseuds/Gale_Breeze'>Gale_Breeze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, about freedom and the inherent nature of destiny being shit, and knowing nothing will ever change that, and maybe one about like, the existential horror and freedom of being a monster, theres probably a metaphor in here somewhere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:21:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gale_Breeze/pseuds/Gale_Breeze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The weight of ages rises in you, so many eons of being hurt and forgotten, and it shatters through the hollow shell that was the Hylian Champion."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dark moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kilton has a new product in his shop. They're different. Clothes, rather than masks. The voices in your head scream with panic and fear, and you're so filled with spite for each and every one of them that you spend the next week hunting monsters just to afford each item. It feels... Right. You don't remember feeling this way before. The desire to own these fills you up, like a meal cooked at the brink of starvation.</p><p>The mon spills from your trembling hands. The monster lover is slow, and it feels like an eternity between each one he places on the table. As soon as you see the last one touch the counter, you snatch them up and leave the fortune of mon behind. You're desperate, you're needy, and you want to put each of these on right now. You stumble away, into the night, where nobody can see you.</p><p>You put on the trousers. They're grey, almost ashen, but they feel so much more right than the golden brown of the previous ones you wore. The boots are a uniform black, and make no sound as they touch the grass. You put on the tunic. It's blacker than black, deep and empty, like the moonlight is being consumed by it. You put on the hat. There is a momentary pause as the magical effect sinks in.</p><p>And then you remember everything.</p><p>
  <em>(You come from the darkness, his blasphemous side. Created by hatred and eyes in the sky, once you defeated the hero you lived in his mind, a creature created by Ganon, given a life. You looked in his eyes, you were one of a kind. Same moves. Same clothes. Same determined drive.)</em>
</p><p>The fear, when the Hero of Sky was lost and alone without the girl he loved. The horror, when the Hero of Legend had to kill the Windfish. The guilt, when the Hero of Winds was forced to leave the man he trusted on the ocean floor. The sorrow, when the Hero of Twilight saw his friends and family turn against him. The rage, when the Hero of Time gave his home, his friends, his life, and was still forced to stay as a shade for so many years after.</p><p>The loneliness as the Hero of the Wild was locked into a steel box and left to die alone. He never came back, and nobody would ever know he was gone.</p><p>
  <em>(You knew all his moves, you felt all his pain. A slave to the Kingdom, a tragic shame. Hyrule could have been his, had he just taken your hand, if he'd just asked you would have devoured the land. He could never defeat you, he knew you were right! He was a servant, a pawn, he was living a LIE!)</em>
</p><p>The hate. The spite. The anguish. You're all of that. Every time a Hero doubted, every time they lifted their heads to the heavens and screamed, every time they felt alone and scared and like the world was crushing them even as they held it aloft on their shoulders... They made you. They made you, and you're NOT them. You aren't Link. You were never Link.</p><p>The spell completes as the clothes settle. It bleaches your hair silver as steel, your eyes red as fire, and your skin black as the night sky. The Master Sword makes a sound, and if you were so inclined to believe that it was ever alive and that it ever cared about anything, you might think it was a horrified sob. For the first time, you feel comfortable in your own skin.</p><p>It should be agony. These are still just clothes, you are still just a man, and you are seething with dark magic from beyond. It should hurt. It should. But... You feel good, and it's such a foreign sensation that you can suddenly feel the rusted trappings of Courage that surround you. The weight of ages rises in you, so many eons of being hurt and forgotten, and it shatters through the hollow shell that was the Hylian Champion. The old oaths of duty, the old bonds of friendship, they all fall away as you breathe in the wild air. The cold white moonlight shines upon you, and it feels like a baptism. You're no longer a man, but a spirit, a ghost, a shadow - you're born again.</p><p>You are the Darkness that lurks inside the hearts of good men. It's a comforting truth.</p><p>The swirls of Calamity shudder and lower, just for that one night. You think that it knows you're alive again. You think that it remembers all the times that it hurt you, unmade you and remade you for the high crime of not being a good enough reflection of the Heroes. You think it's cowering and waiting for the end, because the Champion might have been merciful with it. Quick and efficient, with a desire to end a battle being waged for a hundred years.</p><p>You think that the Calamity is afraid of you, and the vengeance you're going to visit upon it. It's a nice fantasy, and you let it soothe you to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i passed out for an hour and when i woke up this was on my computer</p></blockquote></div></div>
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